Choices
by Aldrian Kyrrith
Summary: X-over with Watchmen: After an unexpected encounter with one of the Endless, Jon Osterman must reevaluate just how much his actions are predetermined. Oneshot


Choices

Jon Osterman stands alone, in the void of deep space. He has seen many things, and will see much more, but never is he surprised. He has touched the very fabric of existence, and glimpsed the deepest truth of reality, and he has learned much. In two hours, he will leave this place, and create a new humanity, on another planet, in another galaxy. It will thrive, like the first creation did, and he will walk amongst its inhabitants for a time, seeing them slowly embark on the path towards entropy. Then, like all things, it will die; billions of inhabitants helpless against the wrath of a vindictive comet, and their god unable to do anything. He will feel sadness for them but he will do nothing to stop Armageddon. He will merely watch, a silent observer, as destiny takes its course. Once, when he was still human, he believed in free will, but he has since learned the truth. Like all beings, he was following a script, prewritten and unchangeable. He is bound to his role, and bound to the script, just like everything else in this universe, both living and nonliving.

Jon Osterman pauses, for a brief moment, as he puts his hand on his head, feeling something is off with existence. It is a sensation he has never felt before, something completely alien, completely new. He considers this sensation, unable to explain it, and it puzzles him. He looks into the future and, to his shock, sees nothing. He looks into the past, and, similarly, sees nothing. In an instant, he realizes that the impossible has happened: his strings have been cut, and he realizes, with absolute certainty, that something has happened to alter reality. The causality has been broken, and, unless he does something immediately, the entire universe might well fall into chaos.

"Hey, Jon, you mind if I join you?"

He didn't even notice her until she had spoken. He turns around to find someone standing next to him, two beings, standing in the depth of space. He recognizes her form as human, likely from the late twentieth century, clothed in black, wearing an ankh suspended at the end of a necklace. For a moment, he feels like he knows her but, strangely, he can summon no memory of the young woman standing before him. Paradox: he has seen it before, but never like this.

"Well," she says brightly, "I'll take your silence as a yes."

Jon turns his head to face her, and nods, "I have no right to refuse your request. Still, it puzzles me. I feel as if I should know you, though I cannot recall ever meeting you."

She grinned, "I guess even omniscience has its limits, doesn't it?"

"That would defeat the entire definition of omniscience," Jon responds, "You have done something, haven't you?"

She grins, "Nothing too harmful, really. I just wanted an opportunity to talk."

"I take it you have done this often, then. Messing with the natural laws that govern the universe? I can't see how you can qualify that as harmless."

She shrugs, and answers, in a matter of fact tone of voice, "I know what I'm doing. Besides, the universe won't end as a result of our short time together. Trust me, I'll know it when eternity comes to an end."

"Another paradox," he observes.

"Not really," she answers, "All things must come to an end, eventually, even forever. Even you."

He pauses to consider the notion, and wonders whether she is correct. He has seen thousands, even millions of years into the future, and not once has he met the Grim Reaper. Yet this girl speaks of an encounter in Samarra as if it is set in stone, as if it will happen. Perhaps she is right. Even he cannot see to the end of time. Even he isn't privy to the entire script. This encounter, if anything, is proving that.

"It is likely," he admits. "Even galaxies must die. I suppose the same falls true to immortals."

She frowns, and closes her eyes. "You are remarkably poised about your fate. Most mortals fight it."

"I am not mortal," he corrects her, "And I do not change what is inviolate. When I will die, I will die. There is no more that needs to be considered."

She smiles, despite herself, "I must say, I am always a bit gratified to hear such sentiments on the matter: far too many people fear the eternal mystery. Still, there is nothing wrong with the desire to live. Survival has brought your species to the point where it can birth gods."

"Destiny has brought humanity to that point," he corrects her. "Everything else is an illusion."

She pauses, but dismisses the notion immediately. "If that is so, how can you explain our meeting? If you can see everything, understand everything, why am I a stranger?"

Jon has no answer to that question.

She leans back, relaxing against the void, "I'll let you in on a little secret, Jon. All of us, from the moment we come into existence until the moment we leave it, know everything. However, most of us choose to tell ourselves that we don't know what we know, and, by pretending, we make it real."

Jon shook his head, dismissing the stranger's notion, "Your words are illogical. If all humans knew what I know, they would not be able to delude themselves into thinking otherwise."

Death sighed, as if she was speaking to a child, "Have you tried recently? To be quite honest, Jon, you're not that special in the grand scheme of things. Just like everyone else, you've deluded yourself into knowing less than you realize, and understanding even less than that. You tell yourself that you're a just a puppet, that everything has been preordained. I admit that it's understandable. After all, in the long run it's much easier to give up your free will, and become a bystander, than to live with uncertainty, and doubt, and consequences. That doesn't make it correct, however."

Jon shook his head, "It isn't that easy."

She shook her head, "Isn't it? You had a number of choices. You could have spared Rorschach, you could have stayed on Mars, you could have never left Earth in the first place. Instead, you chose to follow a script. You chose not to choose at all."

Jon pauses for a moment, wondering whether she might be correct. He has looked into the future, and seen time unfold, but he has never actively tied to circumvent it. How could he say such things were impossible, if he hadn't ever put forward the attempt?

"That's more in the spirit," the strange woman answers, though he hadn't said a word, "Let me tell you a story. See, like you, my family isn't quite human, and, like you, reality has bound us with certain responsibilities. My brother was no exception but, unlike the rest of us, he eventually grew disillusioned with his role in the universe and so, when the time came, he quit. Gave up his mantle, his responsibility, his purpose, and now he wanders the stars, serving no master, serving no callings. He is free, and if he could be, you could too."

"That's quite a story you have," Jon answers, not certain about her truth, "But I still don't think the universe works as simply as you suggest."

She paused, "That's your prerogative. It's your choice, after all, whether to change. Still, I felt I should stop by to tell you that it was yours to make, but I really have other matters I must get back to."

"You aren't like your brother," Jon observed, "You are still a servant of the universe."

The woman flashed him a smile, "Make no mistake, Jon Osterman. I choose to remain what I am. Still, if you're interested in following my advice, and ignoring destiny's calling, might I suggest that you return to Earth, and seek out a certain little nightclub called Lux. When it comes to rebelling against Providence, its owner is _the_ expert."

Jon considers her offer for a moment, and, briefly, considers whether or not to return to Earth.

"Be warned," she states, turning to leave him. "He can be a bit of a jerk, but there is a certain amount of wisdom in what he has to say. Good luck, Jon Osterman. Until we meet again."

An instant later, the woman is gone, and Jon is once again alone in oblivion. Rapidly, reality returns to its normal functioning, and, once again, Jon Osterman finds himself connected to the full scope of existence. He can look forward into the distant future, or backward into the distant past. Still, he cannot see the strange young woman. It is as if she had never been, though he knows otherwise. Perhaps, he supposes, she exists entirely outside of time and space, and is privy to things even he cannot comprehend.

Her words return, and her final message taunts his subconscious. He had once been called a puppet and, at the time, he had made no attempt to refute the accusation. He had accepted his fate to be irrefutable. Now he is no longer certain.

The woman has given him a choice and, while it is a simple one to consider, it remains a harrowingly difficult one to make. He briefly considers everything she had told him, weighing this against everything he has ever known.

And then Jon Osterman decides.

Finis


End file.
